A Winter's Tale
by RED5
Summary: A love triangle for the festive season (Jack - Sam - Martin). Enjoy and Merry Christmas! STORY COMPLETE.
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: The characters of Jack Malone, Samantha Spade, Martin Fitzgerald, Danny Taylor, Vivian Johnson, Paula Van Doran, Maria Malone and Father Sean Walker belong to Jerry Bruckheimer Productions and CBS – I've just borrowed them for this Winter's tale!**

The snow had been falling incessantly for the last four hours. What amazed Samantha the most was the speed at which it had covered everything in its path. The New York skyline was now liberally dusted a powdery white. Street signs, cars and skyscrapers were all iced, just like the Christmas cake she used to help her mother make all those years ago. It was as if the snow was a living, breathing entity, with a plan and a mind of its own. That it was going to cause chaos she had no doubt. Traffic would be backed up for hours and the subway would be crowded with commuters forced to abandon their snowbound vehicles.

She hated the cold. If she hadn't left her Christmas shopping so late, she certainly wouldn't be out here on this snowy Christmas Eve. But she had left it late, and so here she was, freezing her ass off with the other last minute shoppers, all of them hurrying from store to store, paying over the odds for gifts that would be in the bargain bin come January. She was tempted to blame the demands of the job for her seasonal tardiness, but she knew that wasn't true. Vivian had started her shopping weeks ago, Martin too. She'd seen the artist sketch pads and brightly coloured paints he'd bought for his two small nieces, the cashmere scarf purchased from 'Pierre's' for his mother and the silver antique cufflinks for his father. She hadn't seen what he'd bought for her, but she knew he'd bought something.

He'd invited her to spend Christmas Day with him at his parents' house, but she wasn't ready for that. Not yet. Instead they'd compromised – Christmas Eve dinner at his place, just the two of them. Early Christmas morning she would catch a flight to her mother's and he would fly to his parents, for the traditional Fitzgerald gathering in DC. He was at his apartment right now, preparing roast duck with all the trimmings. She smiled, imagining him in his spotless kitchen, with a blue and white striped apron tied around his waist. He'd be one of those organised cooks she decided; the type who chops up all the ingredients in advance and washes the dishes as they go. He'd get out the best cutlery, light some candles and ensure that a quality bottle of wine was airing on the side. The heating would be high enough to thaw out her frozen fingers and toes, but not so hot that it made her flush. The stereo would be playing something melodic on low, not romantic, he wouldn't wanna push things too hard, but something mellow. They'd have dinner and then exchange gifts.

It was strange, buying a gift for Martin. Not strange in a bad way, just different. Their shift from colleagues to lovers hadn't been planned, but it had happened. Whether he'd caught her at a weak moment or a strong one she wasn't sure. It had been nice to be held for the whole night, to wake up together, rather than being abandoned in the early hours. It had been nice not to feel the pain, the guilt, the hopeless despair. True the highs were not as high, but neither were the lows as low. And may be she was better that way.

It had taken a while to pick out Martin's gift and even now she wasn't sure she'd gotten it right. The sales assistant had raved over the water resistant, shock resistant, latest edition climber's watch so much, that Samantha had felt she had to buy it, if only to stop the woman's incessant babbling. She hadn't known Martin was a climber until the Brian Owen case. Martin had been the one to find him. Spotting the photographer from the top of the cliff edge, he'd scrambled his way down to the injured man and called it in. Later, when she'd seen the climb he'd made, she'd raised her eyebrows and jokingly asked him if he were Spiderman. He'd blushed and laughed it off, modestly explaining that he'd been president of the climbing club in college. He still climbed when he got a chance. He said he loved the freedom, the challenge of moulding his body to become one with the rock. She'd never heard him talk with such passion, such openness and although afterwards he'd been a little embarrassed, it had struck a chord with her. And so, for the first time in her life she'd found herself in an outdoors shop, fumbling her way through rock boots and chalk bags, until she'd been pounced on by the over enthusiastic sales assistant.

As she walked toward the subway, she could feel the snowflakes against her face, tickling her nose on their descent to the street below. Her feet, encased in thick fur lined boots, trudged heavily through the mounds of snow in her path, and her breath when she exhaled danced away in cloudy spirals like cigarette smoke. She was wearing her warmest coat and scarf, and her hands were gloved, but still she was cold.

And yet that wasn't entirely true. Martin's wasn't the only gift she'd bought tonight. The other gift, the guilty, secret gift, the one that she shouldn't have bought, was burning a hole in her pocket so bright, that she had enough heat to keep her going through to New Years.

She knew she shouldn't have bought it, had no right to buy it. But she'd seen it and thought of _him_. The thought had become an impulse, the impulse so strong it was impossible to ignore. And then, before she even knew what she was doing, she was at the counter, handing over her money and picking out gift-wrap. She shouldn't have bought it, but then '_he_' wasn't supposed to be here. She was never supposed to see _'him'_ again. He'd gone to Chicago to rebuild his life and she'd stayed in New York to rebuild hers. And she had rebuilt it, or she'd started to at least. And then '_he'd'_ come back. His life was in tatters, his soul almost destroyed, but for the first time since they'd met he was free.

But she wasn't.

The paper chains hanging from the ceiling and the tinsel on the computer screens were not the only remnants from the Bureau's annual Christmas party. Jack had managed to snag a plate of sorry-looking sandwiches, some chips with an unidentifiable dip, a slice of chocolate gateau and a bottle of red wine. It wasn't exactly a feast, but he doubted that even Van Doran expected anyone to be working this late on Christmas Eve. For once not wanting to be alone in his office, he had pulled up a chair at the conference table and settled down to eat. The stereo from the party had been left behind and wanting company, he idly reached across and flicked it on. He winced as a far too cheery Christmas song assaulted his ear drums. Hastily turning down the volume, he played around with the controls until he found a mellower track. The strains of Bing Crosby crooning 'White Christmas' drifted across the room, and Jack gave a wry smile – appropriate song given the current weather conditions.

The snow had taken everyone by surprise. It had been cold all week, but the weather guys had, had all New York convinced that a white Christmas wasn't on the cards this year. 'Shows what they know' he thought with a grunt. He didn't mind the cold; he was used to New York winters. But the snow sometimes caused him problems. Weather like this, he had to take it a little slow. Last year, Hannah, full of youthful enthusiasm, had flung herself on him, when he'd come to inspect the snow people she and Kate had fashioned out in the front yard. Without a sure footing, his faulty knee had twisted and he'd landed on it, with both his weight and hers. The pain had brought tears to his eyes, but he'd hidden it from Kate and Hannah, not wanting to spoil their fun. He'd hidden a lot of things from them last year, but they knew things now, and he knew that he'd spoilt a lot more than their fun.

He hadn't been out in the snow yet today. In fact, he'd barely noticed the weather, as he'd forced smiles and small talk at the Christmas party. He'd laughed and joked with Danny, even managed a respectable peck on the cheek for Van Doran, when a drunken intel analyst had cornered them with some mistletoe. He'd shaken hands and wished colleagues 'Happy Holidays', and whilst he may not have been the life and soul of the party, he'd figured he'd put on a good enough show. He'd given it half an hour before claiming he had paper work to finish. Some of his team had tried to persuade him to stay, but he'd refused. _She'd_ caught his eye as he'd turned to go, but she hadn't asked him to stay. And so he'd left them to it, and whilst he could still hear the laughing and joking, the music and the clinking glasses, at least he hadn't had to keep up the smile.

By 6pm he'd been able to tell that the party was starting to break up. He could hear them calling out farewells and exchanging plans for the evening ahead. Some were off home to partners and children, others heading on to clubs and bars to enjoy a little more festive spirit before facing the snowy trek home. As much as he wanted to hide in his paper work, he knew he'd have to face them before they left – face _'her'._

Vivian had been the first to stick her head around his door. She'd had her coat on and had wrapped a bright red scarf around her neck. In her hands were yet more parcels – she'd been shopping for weeks. She'd paused just inside the door, her eyes clear and determined.

'I'm going now Jack' she'd said.

He'd nodded 'Okay'.

She hadn't smiled and he knew why. He'd disappointed her – the way he'd acted, the things he'd done. It had changed their relationship. Sure she still did her job as well as ever, but he'd lost her respect and he knew it.

She'd seemed reluctant to go; like there was more she wanted to say. He'd sighed, wondering how many times he'd have to atone, how many people he'd hurt and how he could put it right.

'Are you seeing the girls this holiday Jack?' she'd asked.

He'd look up surprised. It had been the first time she'd mentioned his situation since they'd rowed in the car.

'Yeah, yeah I am' he'd replied gruffly 'but not until the twenty-seventh. They're staying with their mother until then'.

She'd nodded and then released a breath 'You know I'm cooking Christmas Eve dinner for Reggie and Marcus tonight' she'd said. She'd looked at him with those direct eyes 'There's always room for one more'.

Their eyes met and although her face was still hard, her eyes were not. He'd swallowed, a sudden lump in his throat.

'Thanks' he'd said softly.

She'd smiled that smile of hers, the one that said she knew what was going on, knew that when he'd said 'thanks' it wasn't just about the dinner invitation.

'But you're not gonna come are you?' she'd said knowingly.

'I'm fine Viv' he'd replied 'I'll be fine'.

'Are you sure Jack?' she'd asked, her eyes probing, profiling him in the way she'd profiled so many others.

'Yes I'm sure' he'd said 'Now go, they're waiting for you'.

'Well you know where we are if you change your mind' she'd said. But she'd known he wouldn't.

'Yeah I know' he'd said. 'Happy Holidays Viv'.

'Happy holidays Jack'.

Fifteen minutes later, Danny had appeared at the door. He, like Viv, had been dressed to face the cold, the collar of his trench coat already turned up, a black knitted skull cap pulled down over his short hair.

'Hey Jack, a group of us are headed out to 'Malloy's' carry on the party a little more' he'd said, a lopsided grin on his face.

'You're drinking?' Jack had asked, one eyebrow slightly raised

'They're drinking' Danny had corrected him 'me, I'm more interested in a certain fire inspector who said she might be there'.

'Hey Danny, c'mon man!' voices had shouted from outside the door 'We're getting' mighty thirsty out here'.

Danny had leaned back out the door 'I'll be right there' he'd shouted. When his head had reappeared, he'd still been grinning 'So Jack, you wanna come with?' he'd asked

'Thanks' he'd replied 'but I got a lot of work to finish up here before I head out'.

'Really?' Danny had said, his eyebrows arching skywards 'Van Doran still cracking the whip?'

He'd shrugged 'I messed a lot of people around when I didn't take the job in Chicago, I guess I have to prove myself again now I'm back'.

'Well you don't have to prove anything to me' Danny had said 'It's good to have you back man'.

He'd smiled, appreciating the support 'Thanks, it's good to be back'.

'Well have a good one Jack and don't work too late, weather's getting pretty bad out there'.

He'd nodded 'Happy Holidays Danny' he'd said.

'Happy Holidays Jack.'

A 6.30pm there'd been a knock on the door.

'Come in' he'd called out.

Even if the door hadn't been glass, he'd have known it was gonna be Martin; he was the only one of the team who ever knocked. The younger man had, had two shopping bags filled with groceries in his hands. They'd looked so out of place with his formal suit and long trench coat that Jack had looked the younger man up and down and smiled

'Never had you figured for a chef' he'd said dryly.

Martin had smiled back 'Not sure that I am one, but I'm gonna give it a shot' he'd replied. 'I have to admit that I didn't get much practice when I was growing up. My mom isn't really one for cooking.'

'Yeah?' Jack had said, mildly surprised 'Doesn't she have to entertain your father's big shot entourage in Washington?'

Martin had lowered his voice conspiratorially 'You know she'd never admit it, but whenever she has a real important dinner party she orders in'.

Jack had snorted, enjoying the irony 'You spending the holidays with your folks?' he'd asked.

Martin had nodded 'Heading over to DC tomorrow for the annual Fitzgerald Christmas dinner'.

'Well say 'Merry Christmas' to the Deputy Director for me' Jack had said with a wry smile.

Martin had nodded 'I'll be sure and do that' he'd said equally wry 'no doubt he'd love to extend his best wishes to you too'.

He'd smiled 'I'm sure he would'.

And that was when '_she'_ had come in. Bursting through the door with her blonde hair hanging loose and her coat done up on the wrong buttons, she'd stopped awkwardly beside Martin, hovering on the threshold.

He'd felt his breath catch in his throat.

'Just wanted to let you know I'm heading out now too' she'd said, her voice unusually high, 'Still got Christmas shopping to do; you know, see if I can pick up any last minute bargains'. She'd seemed flustered, uncomfortable. She was never relaxed around him anymore. That was his fault too.

'You'd better hurry if you wanna catch the stores before they close' he'd said, his voice a little gruff.

She'd look at him, a hint of something in her eyes 'You know me' she'd said, 'I like to live on the edge.'

He'd paused, swallowed 'Yeah I know' he'd said.

Their eyes had met and for one brief moment he'd felt that spark of electricity and with it a surge of hope. But she'd quickly looked away, her eyes jumping to Martin instead. And Martin had looked back at her. And watching the two of them, standing there in the doorway to his office, looking at each other and then looking at him, suddenly he'd known. At that moment he'd wished with all his heart that he wasn't a skilled profiler, wasn't well versed in the art of body language, that he couldn't read those tell tale signals that gave the game away. But he was and he could and he knew that the cold feeling that had started in his stomach and was spreading through every nerve and sinew, turning his very blood to ice, had nothing to do with the snow outside.

He had sat there, trying to put it together, trying to work it out. And then Martin had spoken.

'You know everyone else has gone' Martin had said 'Are you heading out now too Jack, cause we can walk out with you.'

'We?' he'd thought 'so it's 'we' now?' and he'd wondered how long it had been 'we'.

'Jack?' Martin had prompted 'Are you heading home?'

'Home?' he'd thought 'Where was home?' It certainly wasn't the apartment he'd lived in with Maria and the girls; that had been rented out when he was supposed to move to Chicago. The hotel room he'd been living in recently wasn't home, and now maybe home wasn't with '_her'_ either.

'I've still got some stuff to finish up here before I head out' he'd said, surprised to find his voice was still working. 'I'm gonna be another couple of hours at least'.

She'd caught his eye and this time he'd been the one to look away. He'd known that she'd understood that he didn't have a home to go to, that he was working late on Christmas Eve not because he had to, but because he didn't have anywhere else to go. And he wondered if she knew that he'd been hoping that if he stayed late, then maybe she'd stay late too and then maybe they could finally talk about what he'd said, what he'd done.

She'd opened her mouth to say something, and for a moment he'd wondered if may be he'd been wrong about her and Martin. But then she'd closed her mouth and Martin had spoken instead

'Well don't work too hard Jack' he'd said 'And Happy Holidays'.

He'd nodded 'You too'

And then she'd looked at him, her brown eyes sending him a message that for once he couldn't read

'Take care Jack' she'd said.

'Take care Sam' he'd replied.

And he'd had a horrible feeling that 'Take care' meant 'goodbye'.

**TO BE CONTINUED ……**


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Thanks very much for the reviews of chapter 1. Since this is my first WaT story, I wasn't sure if I'd got it right – the warm welcome you gave me really helped! This is part 2, with a 3rd and final part to come.

For a while after they'd gone, he kidded himself that she'd come back. Maybe after she'd done her shopping, she'd come back and she'd explain to him why she'd slept with Martin and may be he could explain why he'd chosen his wife over her. And then may be he could tell her that although he hadn't chosen her, it wasn't because he hadn't wanted to with all his heart; it was because he hadn't had a choice, not really. He'd had to try for his children and although it hadn't been enough, he'd still had to try. And may be she could tell him that although she'd slept with Martin, it hadn't meant anything, not really.

As he sat in his ever-darkening office surrounded by silence, he pulled open his desk drawer and took out the small box he'd bought two days ago. He shouldn't have bought it, but it'd caught his eye, because somehow it reminded him of _her_. Closing his eyes he thought of how Christmas could have been if the choices he'd made had been different.

They'd be at her apartment; it was always her apartment. She'd have just gotten out of the shower. Her face would be slightly flushed from the heat, her blonde hair still damp, hanging loose around her shoulders. He'd be in the kitchen in his shirt-sleeves, cooking. She'd come and join him, pouring them each a drink and teasing him about the mess he was making. Then she'd watch him cook, sipping her wine and occasionally stealing some of the vegetables he was chopping as he went along.

And then maybe she'd move behind him, her hands tracing slow circles first around his shoulders and the back of his neck, and then drifting down his sides and then up and around his chest. He'd drop the knife on to the counter and turn to face her. They'd look at each other and then slowly he'd reach up and gently trail a finger along the outline of her face, revelling in the softness of her skin. And then they'd kiss, their tongues exploring gently at first, and then more insistently, as they pressed urgently against each other. And then dinner would be forgotten, as they frantically fumbled with each other's clothes, eventually ripping them off in their haste to get skin on skin.

But she hadn't come back and so he couldn't explain. And sadly he'd slipped the box into his jacket pocket, where it felt as cold as the snow outside. And suddenly he hadn't wanted to be alone in his office on Christmas Eve. So he'd gotten up from his desk and walked slowly to the conference room, limping slightly because it was late and he was tired. And now here he was, sitting at the table, listening to Bing Crosby and drinking far too much red wine, in the hope that he could forget.

Halfway down the bottle, he began to wonder if the wine had been such a good idea. Was his mind starting to play tricks, because suddenly '_she' _was standing in front of him. Her coat was on the right buttons now, and she had two large carrier bags in her hands. Snowflakes glistened in her hair, and her nose and ears were red. She'd never looked more beautiful. And then she spoke and he knew that it wasn't the wine.

'I thought red wine gave you a headache' she said.

He grunted 'It does. You're the one who likes red'.

She nodded 'That's right I do'.

He pushed the half empty bottle towards her 'Help yourself' he said, his voice gruff.

Putting down her bags she took a seat opposite him and poured herself a small glass of wine.

'I can't stay' she said 'I only came back because I realised that there was something I forgot to do'. She hesitated, a little flustered now 'I .. er don't have much time, it's Christmas Eve, ya know?'.

He nodded, understanding. Years of analysing people enabling him to read between the lines even though he didn't want to.

'Martin's waiting for you' he said quietly, not meeting her eyes. Then remembering the grocery bags 'He's cooking you dinner at your apartment'.

Their eyes met and she swallowed hard.

'His apartment' she said.

'Right' he said. Of course Martin could take her to his apartment; he didn't have a wife and kids he had to hide her from. 'Neither do you now' a little voice in his head said, but it was too late, far too late.

'Look Jack' she began, but suddenly he didn't wanna hear it.

'You don't owe me an explanation. Who you see is your business' there was an edge to his voice now. He hadn't meant to get angry and yet he was. May be it was the wine, or may be it was the fact that she was so damn close and yet he still couldn't have her.

'You know what, you're right' she said, angry herself now. Pushing the bottle back towards him she got up from her seat and turned away, bending to pick up her bags.

'Sam, wait; please'.

The words were out before he'd even realised he'd said them. She stopped and let out a breath, but she didn't turn around

'Wait for what Jack?' she asked tiredly.

'I wanna …'he paused, the words that'd he practiced so many times were eluding him now 'I just want ….'

'That's right' she interrupted, turning to face him now 'It's always about what you want isn't it? It's always about you - your choices, your decisions, your family'.

He looked at her stricken 'Sam, I …'

'What about me Jack?'

'I'm sorry' he said 'I don't know what else to say. This is hard for me. Coming back here, seeing you again' he paused 'seeing you with him' he dropped his eyes.

'You think it's been easy for me?' she asked 'Damn it Jack, you left, you went to Chicago'.

He nodded 'I know' he said sadly.

She shook her head slowly 'I thought I was never gonna see you again, I had to get used to a life without you in it.'

'I see you made a start on that already' he said bitterly.

'That's not fair' she said 'You can't expect to just pick up where you left off. Things change, I've changed'.

He looked at her, his eyes sad 'And he's part of that change?'

She swallowed hard 'He puts me first' she said finally.

Jack sighed; he wanted her to be happy, wanted to be happy for her, but he couldn't bring himself to say it, not tonight.

'What about you Jack?' she asked 'Could you put me first?'

He took a slug of wine and didn't answer, his eyes dropping again to the table before him.

Slowly she took the few steps back towards him, stayed standing this time. He didn't respond.

'Don't you think you've had enough to drink?' she asked

He shrugged 'not even'

Letting out a breath, she reached out and placed a hand over his, her fingers automatically finding the cold, hardness of his wedding band. The heat of his skin, the closeness of his body sent tremors through her.

'I'm sorry things didn't work out for you in Chicago' she said softly.

'Do you love him?' he asked suddenly, his voice urgent, his grip tightening on her hand, his bloodshot eyes searching her face.

She felt her heart clench 'Not in the way I love you' she wanted to say. He was grouchy, dishevelled and he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but even now, too far down a bottle of wine, with his five o'clock shadow and his jacket creased, he had a power over her that she couldn't explain. Martin was a good man, but Jack …. Well Jack was Jack. She'd never love anyone the way she loved Jack.

But she couldn't count on him. If Maria changed her mind, how could she be sure that he wouldn't go back to Chicago, just like that? She couldn't be sure and she knew it. But oh how she wanted him anyway.

She hadn't answered his question. That could mean only one thing. Letting go of her hand, he dropped his head into his hands, rubbing tiredly at the ache that had started to form at the bridge of his nose. He wondered why he was torturing himself in this way. He reached for the wine, but she stopped him by moving it away.

'You look tired' she said gently.

He looked up, stared at her standing there, holding the bottle of red wine in her hands.

'You look beautiful' he replied.

'Jack, please ..' she said, her voice trembling.

He was shaking himself, but he had to say it. Selfish as it was, he had to tell her how he felt.

'I've missed you' he said softly 'there isn't a minute goes by when I don't think of you, think of how it could have been, how I wish it still could be'.

There was silence. They looked at each other, both for a moment imagining what could be. Jack broke the silence first.

'I was stupid. I should never have gone'.

She let out a breath, put the bottle back down on the table 'You went for the kids'

'Yeah I went for the kids' he said 'but they'd be happy if I was happy'. He shook his head 'I'd never have been happy in Chicago'.

Their eyes met and he realised that she was crying.

'I'm sorry' he said 'Sorry I went, sorry I came back' he paused looking at her with a twist of a smile 'sorry I'm making you cry'.

She laughed through her tears 'How did we get to this?' she asked

He shrugged with a half smile, then turned serious 'I'm kinda more interested in where we go from here' he replied softly.

She stepped away from him, hugging her arms around her. She felt vulnerable, on the edge of stepping over a precipice from which there was no return. Was she ready to get hurt again? He was looking at her now, in that way that he did. His face, that could be so tough when he was interrogating a suspect, looked suddenly softer, younger, boyish even. She felt herself melting. And then she thought of Martin. He was always there when she needed him – when she'd shot the two kidnappers and was scared, so scared, when she'd cried over Jack leaving and there was nowhere else to go, no one else to go to. He was solid, safe, secure. What she had with Martin was good, healthy in a way no other relationship in her life had been. And she could grow to love him. Was she really ready to lose all that, to take a chance on a man who had screwed her and then left her for his wife.

A man who had willingly exchanged his life for hers; one dark night in a high street bookstore.

He could see the conflicting emotions mirrored in the expressions on her face

'I just need some time Jack' she said finally 'Please let me have that'.

He nodded 'Okay'

Running a hand through his hair, he took a steadying breath 'It's getting late' he said.

She nodded 'I have to go'.

'I'll walk you to the subway' he said, wincing slightly, as leaning heavily on the table, he struggled to his feet.

She noticed the brief flash of pain on his face 'Knee hurting?' she asked gently.

He thought about hiding it, but tonight had been a night of truths 'Always hurts when I'm tired' he admitted.

She offered him her arm 'In that case may be _I_ should walk _you_ to the subway'.

He grunted 'Yeah, may be you should'.

**To Be Continued ….**


	3. Chapter 3

Picking up a carrier bag each, they headed slowly for the elevator and the sidewalk below. There seemed no need for conversation; they'd said all they needed to say, for now at least. Instead they walked slowly, arm in arm through the heavily falling snow. It was too early for drunken revellers and the streets themselves were quieter now, caught in that limbo between the closing of the shops and the closing of the bars.

She glanced at him, taking in his profile. His head was bowed, his eyes on the slick ice that made every step precarious. He was leaning on her pretty heavy now, and she had to battle to keep her own feet. May be it was the wine or may be just his tiredness, but the limp he usually hid so well, was obvious tonight. Why had she never really noticed it before? 'Because he didn't want you to' she knew the answer herself. She hardly ever thought of Jack as vulnerable, and yet she knew that he was. She wondered how he'd have made it to the subway without her, and then wondered if he'd been planning to go to the subway at all. He'd slept enough nights at the office in the past; one more wouldn't have made much difference. And suddenly she was glad that he wasn't sleeping there tonight.

He kept his eyes down, trying to watch for their footing, but he knew that she was the one keeping them upright tonight. His knee was throbbing in time with his head, and he knew that he was limping badly, but for once he didn't try to hide it. The scent of her perfume, the warmth of her body so close was intoxicating. Sure he'd sunk a lot of wine tonight, but he knew it wasn't just the alcohol that was making his senses reel. But then he thought of Martin and his stomach churned, not with jealousy, but with fear. Fear, because he knew that Martin was the better man and fear because one day he knew that she'd know it too.

The snow was still falling, soaking their hair and covering their clothes, but neither of them noticed. Together they stepped off the snow-covered sidewalk and slowly took the steep steps down to the subway below. In contrast to the street, the platform was crowded, Christmas shoppers on their way home. They had to force their way on to the platform, jostling their way through the crowds. Her train came in first and he walked over with her, joining the queue of passengers waiting to board.

'Thanks for walking me' he said, letting go of her arm and offering a half smile.

She nodded, smiling back 'You'll be alright?' she asked, not sure whether she meant tonight or more than that.

He paused, then 'Yeah I'll be alright'.

The passengers around them were moving forwards, anxious to get on board. They were getting separated now, she moving on towards the train, he hanging back.

As she got to the door, she turned back to wave.

Suddenly he pushed forward, trying to get closer

'There's just one thing I wanted to ask you' he shouted over the noise of the subway station.

'Yeah?' she said, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

'When you came back to the office, you said you'd come back because you'd forgotten to do something'.

She smiled 'That's right I did'

He looked bemused 'So what did you forget?'

Leaning out of the doorway, she smiled at him standing on the platform, his dark hair wet with snow, his brown eyes tired but curious.

'I came back' she said 'because I realised that I'd forgotten to wish you Merry Christmas.'

'Oh' he was surprised, then he smiled.

The doors were beginning to close

'Merry Christmas Jack' she called out and then she was gone.

As the train pulled away with her on it, his smile faded.

'Merry Christmas Sam' he replied.

His apartment was warm and welcoming and she could smell a heavenly aroma wafting in from the kitchen. The strains of a Christmas carol could be heard on the radio – she smiled, Martin was humming along with it.

'I'm back' she called out, as still in her hat and coat, she stepped out of the hallway.

He was at the oven, pulling out a casserole dish, but he stopped as she came in and looked around, his face lighting up.

'Great timing' he said 'Dinner's almost there, I'll pour you a drink.'

Within seconds he was beside her, replacing her carrier bags with a large glass of wine 'You like red, right?'

She nodded, smiling at him 'Yeah I like red'.

He leant across, dropping a gentle kiss on her nose 'You're freezing' he said, and he pulled her towards him, squeezing her tight.

She returned the hug, surprised by how good it felt 'I'm warmer now' she replied with a smile.

As he released her, she looked around, savouring the glow of the candles he'd scattered around the room.

'This is nice' she said, putting her wine glass down on the table.

He nodded 'I hope so, you deserve something special'.

'I'm not so sure about that' she said, thinking back to another man, another glass of red.

He frowned 'Don't beat up on yourself, you're a good person Sam'.

She sighed 'There are things you don't know about me'.

He shrugged 'Everyone's got a past; it's the future I care about'.

She dropped her eyes 'I don't deserve you'

Reaching forward he gently lifted her chin; forcing her to meet his eyes 'That's just it' he said softly 'You do'.

She stepped forward into his arms and allowed her eyes to close. He felt so strong, so secure. And she thought back to that snowy street only a half hour ago and she realised how nice it was to be the one doing the leaning this time, to have someone who wouldn't let her fall. But was he right? Did she really deserve a man as decent as him? It wasn't a question she could answer tonight. Her feelings were too raw, her emotions balanced on a knife edge. She let out a deep breath; maybe tonight she didn't have to think about it. May be tonight she could just enjoy being with Martin and not worry about whether she was good enough. And then may be tonight she could stop thinking about her past and focus instead on their future.

They kissed, softly at first and then more passionately. He was smiling as he pulled away.

'I'd better serve up' he said 'Or I don't think we'll make it to the table tonight'.

She grinned back at him 'You could be right'.

Stepping away from him, she walked back to the hallway to hang up her outdoor clothes. Shedding her scarf, she pulled off her gloves and pushed them into the pockets of her coat. And that was when she found it. To her surprise, nestled in her coat pocket was a small gift-wrapped box. Stepping around the corner, out of sight of the kitchen, she read the label

'To S,

love always

J'.

Opening the box, she gasped at the beauty of the small, carefully crafted crystal angel she found inside. A perfect cut, it caught the light, casting a shimmering rainbow of colours on to the walls around her.

'Dinner is served' Martin said appearing beside her. 'Nice crystal' he commented approvingly, looking at the gift 'Where'd that come from?'

Replacing the angel in the box, she paused 'An old friend' she said.

He nodded 'That's nice, that they still think of you.'

She swallowed hard 'Yeah it's nice.'

And she knew then that her past wasn't gonna be so easy to forget.

He was bone achingly tired, his head throbbing from the wine and his knee throbbing from all the walking in the snow. But he hadn't caught the train back to the hotel. Instead he'd gone in the opposite direction. And now as he sat in the back row of St. Germain's Church, listening to the choir practising for midnight mass, he wondered what on earth he was doing here. He should be at the hotel, sleeping off his hangover, not sitting alone in a draughty church.

He'd been warm whilst she was there, but now the biting east coast wind whipped through the church, slicing mercilessly through his thin coat and jacket. Shivering, he pushed his hands deep into his pockets, hoping to generate a little extra warmth. And that was when he found it. Nestled in the pocket of his coat, was a small gift-wrapped box. Surprised, he read the tag

'To J,

with love

S'.

Opening the box, he smiled at what he saw.

The sound of footsteps alerted him that he was no longer alone. Looking up, he realised he'd been joined by Father Walker, the parish priest.

'Are you enjoying the carols Jack?' The priest asked.

Jack offered a half smile 'I hadn't really noticed them until now father, but yeah I guess I am.'

'That's a fine St. Christopher you have there' the priest commented, noticing the medallion in the other man's hands 'He's the patron saint of travellers you know, a guide for those who have lost their way'.

Jack nodded 'A gift from a friend'.

The priest smiled 'Obviously a friend who wants to help you find your way'.

Jack nodded 'I guess so' he said gruffly.

Looking at Jack, the priest placed a hand on his arm 'Are you alright Jack, you look tired'.

Jack smiled 'Actually father I think I am. I think I got something tonight that I've not had for a long time'

The priest looked puzzled 'And what was that Jack?'

Jack met the priest's eye 'Hope father' he said 'hope'.

**THE END**

**Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. I realise that I might not have pleased everyone with the way the pairings went in this story, so I'm sorry if it didn't turn out the way you expected. My aim in writing this was not to specifically pair Sam with either man, but to show her confusion at having her past love return, just as she was trying to get over him and embark on a new relationship. I also wanted to explore a little of how the relationship she has with each man is completely different. I haven't seen any of Season 3 yet, so I have no idea if this story fits in any way with what's happened in the show.**

**Merry Christmas!**


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